


red tattoo

by choir



Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Alternate Universe - Soulmates, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-17
Updated: 2016-01-17
Packaged: 2018-05-14 10:38:26
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,473
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5740540
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/choir/pseuds/choir
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“You’re not my soulmate,” Keiji says simply. His tattoo doesn’t glow, there’s no spark like everyone says there is — this man is not the one.</p><p>“So?” is the response Keiji gets, and he’s instantly confused, “should that stop you?”</p><p>The words weigh heavy in Keiji’s heart.</p>
            </blockquote>





	red tattoo

**Author's Note:**

> I'm procrastinating on both my jazz AU and the immense amount of work I have to do for college. Enjoy!

“You’re not my soulmate,” Keiji says simply. His tattoo doesn’t glow, there’s no spark like everyone says there is — this man is not the one.

“So?” is the response Keiji gets, and he’s instantly confused, “should that stop you?”

The words weigh heavy in Keiji’s heart. 

 

 

* * *

 

 

Keiji does meet his soulmate, one day. He’s with Bokuto, sitting in quiet comfort between two cups of coffee during finals week, when the small mark on his wrist prickles and glows gold, discomfort blossoming onto his face at the feeling, like something is dreadfully _wrong_.

“Akaashi?” Bokuto says, pencil pausing against his physics review sheet.

Keiji catches his soulmate’s eyes, then, tall with dark wild hair and a wide stature, who raises an eyebrow at him in return, but doesn’t make a move to walk to Keiji’s booth. He merely offers a smile, pointing to man at the cash register, as if to say, _I’m with him_.

The pain in Keiji’s tattoo fades, and he nods in understanding.

“I think I just met my soulmate,” Keiji says, tapping his pen against his cheek when he returns to memorizing the derivation of ordinary least squares.

“Eh?” Bokuto shouts, slamming his hands down on the table and standing up. “Where?”

“By the counter,” Keiji replies.

“You aren’t going to talk to them?” Bokuto pesters, eyes wide in curiosity. “You know — he’s _the_ one!”

“If I didn’t know any better, I would think you were breaking up with me so I could pursue him,” Keiji mutters, fidgeting with the hem of his shirt.

“I mean, Akaashi, I love you, but—” Bokuto takes a deep breath, as if realizing what Keiji encountering his soulmate meant, and he suddenly looks less overjoyed.

“You were the one who said I shouldn’t stop myself, right?” Keiji rests his head in his palm, staring at Bokuto.

Bokuto is wild and messy and easily excitable, but Keiji has never thought about wanting anything more, not since the day he realized he loved him; he wonders if part of the reason Bokuto never developed a mark is because of his simplicity. Keiji gives Bokuto a calm smile, holding his hand out on the table. Bokuto sits down and takes it without question, cheeks blossoming into a pale shade of red.

 

 

* * *

 

 

Keiji runs into his soulmate again, this time in the fiction section of his favorite bookstore. The uncomfortable curling in the pit of his stomach returns, and he glowers at the book in his hands as if it is personally offensive to him.

“That’s a pretty harsh expression.”

“When your professor has you reading a novel a week, your life tends to come to this,” Keiji responds, fighting to keep his voice level. He glances to the right, taking in his soulmate’s easy grin and warm eyes, refusing to accept that the quick beat of his heart means anything.

“I’m Kuroo,” the man says, holding out a hand.

“Nice to meet you,” Keiji mutters, grasping Kuroo’s hand firmly. His tattoo flares, momentarily, causing him to grimace. “I’m Akaashi.”

“Wow, they’re really going crazy, aren’t they?” Kuroo laughs, rubbing the matching tattoo on his wrist.

“You were with someone at the cafe,” Keiji interjects, pulling his hand away quickly, “who wasn’t your soulmate.”

“I never really believed in the soulmate stuff,” Kuroo rubs the back of his neck, wincing when their tattoos pulse again, only harder. “He’s my boyfriend. And you—”

“Same,” Keiji says quickly.

“Huh. Maybe we are soulmates after all,” Kuroo jokes, patting Keiji on the shoulder.

“Maybe.”

“Do you want to exchange numbers?” Kuroo asks, giving Keiji a nonchalant shrug.

“We probably shouldn’t.”

“Might be for the best,” Kuroo agrees after a moment. “Well, I guess I’ll see you around.”

“Nice to meet you,” Keiji tries to smile politely, but his mouth twists downward on reflex.

 

 

* * *

 

 

Unfortunately for Keiji, _see you round_ turned into running into Kuroo almost every other day, what he presumes on accident: the bathroom in the engineering building; _his_ secret corner of the library on the fourth floor, to which Kuroo spitefully responds that it was _his_ secret corner first; his usual Friday dates with Koutarou, where Kuroo somehow manages to bring his boyfriend as well; even the fucking _grocery store_ , where Kuroo somehow also loves and buys all the types of food that Keiji likes.

To say it drives him crazy might be an understatement, because this goes on for  _weeks_.

“I hate him,” he growls out, pacing back and forth across his and Bokuto’s living room. “He appears _everywhere_.”

“You should talk to him,” Bokuto says, voice soft and quiet and unsure, something Keiji hasn’t heard in so long he had forgotten how it sounded on Bokuto’s lips.

“Koutarou,” Keiji whispers, expression crumbling, watching the downcast look in Bokuto’s eyes. His tattoo radiates pain into his fingertips, and he fights to keep his face level. For Bokuto, and maybe partially himself.

“Keiji, you should—”

Keiji can only watch helplessly as Bokuto struggles to keep from breaking in front of him.

 

 

* * *

 

 

“You need to leave,” Keiji hisses out at Kuroo, the third time they had bumped into each other that day.

“Whoa there, princess,” Kuroo frowns, holding up his hands. “I’m not doing anything.”

“I’m with _Koutarou_ ,” he spits out, taking a step backwards. Everything in him screams _run, run_ , and he can barely fight the panic settling under his skin.

“Look, I never had any intention of moving in on you, I don’t know why we’re soulmates when I’m with someone I love, too.”

“Why are you _everywhere_ , then?” Keiji accuses, and he can’t keep the venom out of his voice this time. His phone vibrates in his pocket, once, twice, signaling a text from Bokuto, but he _can’t_ , not now —

“I’m not the one following you around,” Kuroo lets out a bark of laughter, harsh and incredulous, “maybe _you_ should stop—”

“Just shut up,” Keiji’s voice rises, “I’m not doing _anything_ but Koutarou is still, he’s—”

Keiji’s tattoo suddenly burns, like it’s being ripped out of his skin, and he stops to gasp, doubling over. His vision blurs, spotting red at the sides, and he feels tears gather at the side of his eyes.

“Akaashi?” Kuroo takes a step forward, concern laced through his voice.

“Just leave.” Keiji says through clenched teeth, digging his nails into his wrist like it will stop the pain.

“Look, you’re obviously not okay,” Kuroo says, “I know you hate me, but you need to sit down.”

“I don’t hate you,” Keiji glares, “I just wish I did.”

“That makes two of us,” Kuroo says, and laughs for real, this time, before guiding Keiji over to a nearby bench.

“I feel like I’m going to throw up,” Keiji groans, torn between holding his head in his hands and trying to focus on the odd red color his mark has become. "Doesn't it hurt for you?"

"Yeah," Kuroo says, "but it's fine. I think it's affecting you more."

"That's really not fair."

Kuroo doesn’t say anything, just places a hand on Keiji’s shoulders, rubbing soothingly.

It helps more than Keiji cares to admit.

 

 

(Kuroo walks him home after, an awkward silence hovering over them, never breaking even when Keiji waves goodnight after they reach his apartment complex.

“’Night, Akaashi,” Kuroo says, trying to hold the semblance of ending a nice day between friends, but his eyes look confused. Keiji can’t help but notice how he wrings his hands together nervously.

“Good night,” Keiji replies, and gives Kuroo a half-smile.) 

 

 

* * *

 

 

A week later, Keiji settles in Bokuto’s lap for their annual marathon of all the Harry Potter movies, humming as Bokuto runs his fingers through Keiji’s hair. It’s different than with Kuroo, where everything just feels numbed — Bokuto starts a slow burn that travels down his spine, causing him to shiver, and he leans back into the touch.

“You’re kinda touchy-feely today, huh,” Bokuto says, and Keiji can hear the smile in his voice.

“It’s nice,” Keiji slurs, melting against Bokuto’s pliant fingers. “Though it makes it a bit hard to pay attention.”

“We’ve seen this part about fifty times, so it’s okay,” Bokuto laughs, nuzzling into Keiji’s neck before placing a few well lined kisses down his bare shoulder.

“But it’s your favorite, because Hedwig—”

“Akaashi,” Bokuto freezes, and fear instantaneously takes off in Keiji’s chest, “your tattoo. It’s, um...”

Keiji glances down, expecting the worst, and sure enough: the red glow was back, replacing gold, only dimmer this time, almost as though it was fading.

“Oh,” is the only thing Keiji can think to say.

“Is it—uh, are you okay?”

“I’m fine,” Keiji says, but he sits more upright, staring at it in what he hopes doesn’t look like horror.

“Why is it red?”

“I don’t know,” Keiji whispers, and he turns his head to meet Bokuto’s gaze.

The helpless look is back on his face, and Keiji wants nothing more than to cry. He turns around in Bokuto’s lap, facing him now, and places a hand on Bokuto’s cheek.

“Bokuto, look, I really don’t know.”

Bokuto takes a deep breath, wrapping his arms around Keiji. His voice shakes, but is resilient: “I believe you,” he eventually says.

Keiji kisses Bokuto, then, and hopes that Bokuto understands the _I love you_ whispered against his lips.

 

 

* * *

 

 

“Is it supposed to be red,” Kuroo whispers, panicked, when they meet each other at their secret spot in the library.

“I don’t know,” Keiji despairs, rubbing his temples with both hands. “Look, just, what did we do that might’ve done this?”

“The fight last week?” Kuroo helpfully supplies.

“There’s a good probability,” Keiji mutters, fingers twitching when the tattoo sends a prickle of discomfort up his arm.

“But why would it be red?”

“I’ve heard of soulmate tattoos changing,” Keiji says, “but I don’t know the signs, or what—”

“ _Changing?_ ” Kuroo says, and suddenly his eyes are wide and _fearful_ , and Keiji can’t understand why. “Why would they change? Akaashi, they can’t really change, right? It’s a mistake, or—”

“Kuroo, calm down,” Keiji snaps, irritation bubbling over. “It’s fine. We’re not together, anyways.”

“I know, but it’s…” Kuroo trails off. He pauses for what feels like an eternity before finishing his sentence: “I know we’re not romantically involved, but you’re still … how do I put this. Comforting? Like, I don’t feel _romantically_ attracted to you, per sé, but I feel — a pull. Don’t you?”

Keiji stares down at his wrists, suddenly able to intimately connect with the helpless look on Bokuto’s face yesterday.

“Yeah,” he eventually says, shoulders sagging as he sits back against a bookshelf. “I do.”

“I don’t want to kiss you—”

“—gross,” Keiji interrupts.

“Yeah, yeah, super funny,” Kuroo scowls, “but … I don’t want you to not be a part of my life.”

Keiji can’t stop staring.

“That was embarrassing, wasn’t it,” Kuroo says, covering his face with his hands.

“Incredibly so.”

“But you think so too.”

“Unfortunately.”

“Hey!” Kuroo _pouts_ , just like Bokuto does, and Keiji suddenly sees the resemblance.

“You pout just like Koutarou does,” Keiji says, laughing quietly.

“Huh,” Kuroo perks up. “Soulmates after all.”

“Soulmates after all,” Keiji echoes.

 

 

* * *

 

 

Bokuto is fidgeting nervously when Keiji gets home, eyes flickering from Keiji’s face to the floor. He opens his mouth almost instantly when Keiji closes the door, but closes it again after a moment of silence.

“I’m home,” Keiji says, quietly. “My tattoo is fine, see?”

“Yeah,” Bokuto murmurs, but doesn’t move. The uncharacteristically quiet side of Bokuto is something Keiji has always dreaded, because it means that he fucked up, hurt Bokuto enough that he couldn’t even find it in himself to _try_ to act normal.

Keiji sighs, and steels his resolve. “Do you want to meet Kuroo?”

“Who?”

“Kuroo. You know.”

“Oh.” Bokuto shuffles his feet. “Not really.”

“Kuroo has a boyfriend,” Keiji starts. “We’re friends. But not…”

“You—” Bokuto starts, and for a split moment, he looks like he’s really going to cry.

“I love you, Koutarou,” Keiji blurts out, “maybe if you hadn’t come along I’d be with Kuroo. But you told me that I should do what I want.”

Bokuto nods.

“So, I want to stay here,” Keiji says, stubbornness lacing itself through his voice.

“I love you, Keiji,” Bokuto answers, and his voice begins to show some of his usual exuberance, again. “But you were being pretty secretive.”

“I’m sorry,” Keiji says, feeling powerless and scared. “I should’ve told you more.”

“It’s alright. But for everything I told you, I was pretty scared, you know.”

Bokuto smiles, almost like normal, and it’s all Keiji can do to rush up to him and wrap his arms around Bokuto's shoulders, nearly shaking from relief — Bokuto hesitantly hugs him back, running his fingers through Keiji's hair. He feels desperate in the way he clings to Bokuto, but he’d missed him so _much_ , weeks of confusion between them dissipating. Keiji wonders, faintly, if it had almost erased what he loved most about them.

Bokuto’s exaggerated expressions, his childish pouts, and the way he stares down at Keiji like he’s everything, like nothing could possibly change that.

 

 

(His tattoo never disappears, but it fades, just slightly, and loses a bit of color.)

 

 

* * *

 

 

“So you told him about me,” Kuroo says, sipping his coffee with an unreadable expression. “How’d he take it?”

“Surprisingly well,” Keiji rubs his eyes with the back of his hand, suddenly feeling exhausted.

“I’m glad,” Kuroo says, “Daichi didn’t take it so great.”

“What happened?”

“Well, I think I need to make a hell of a dinner tonight,” Kuroo droops over the table, as if trying to act overdramatic, but Keiji doesn’t miss the worried flash in Kuroo’s eyes.

“It’ll turn out fine,” Keiji gives Kuroo a reassuring smile. “I’m sure.”

“Thanks, Akaashi,” Kuroo says, voice muffled from pressing his face into the marble. “So, when do I get to meet Bokuto?”

“Whenever he decides to show up, apparently,” Keiji frowns, staring down at his phone.

“He’s always late, huh,” Kuroo laughs.

“Another trait you two share. I’m almost afraid to introduce you both.”

“Aw, don’t be,” Kuroo gives Keiji his signature smirk, and it takes willpower not to grimace.

Akaashi hopes that the comfortable feeling between them never fades.  

“Akaashi!” Bokuto calls, and Keiji can’t help it—his face breaks out into a smile.

Kuroo sits up suddenly, erasing the nervousness off of his face with an ease that makes Keiji roll his eyes.

“Hi,” Kuroo waves.

“Oh, you’re Kuroo!” Bokuto slides into the booth, right up next to Keiji, and laces their fingers together, squeezing his hand.

Keiji squeezes back.

“That’s me,” Kuroo does a mini pose, and Bokuto laughs.

“Akaashi,” Bokuto says, pecking Keiji on the cheek, “I like him.”

Keiji feels his stomach flip over, warmth creeping up from his toes. “I’m glad,” he says.

And for once, he really is.

**Author's Note:**

> So I've been thinking more or less about Soulmate AUs and why the idea of a soulmate should be the ultimate decision in finding a partner — does your soulmate automatically equate love? or is it something we tell ourselves? The entire basis of having a soulmate doesn't mean a lot to me, mostly because I think that we should have a solid decision in who we love and why. However, if soulmates were to exist — is it something that we _have_ to build upon? is it just an instinctive pull towards someone? Generally, I lean towards the latter, so this fic was sort of born out of a thought experiment.
> 
> Talk to me on [tumblr](http://nishiuras.tumblr.com) or [twitter](http://twitter.com/karasunos).


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